


Sticks and Stones

by TheMightierPen



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 02:30:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21008243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightierPen/pseuds/TheMightierPen
Summary: When Crowley and Aziraphale discover a new way to contact the Archangels, they get into a bit of mischeif, and reveal a lng hidden secret.  Based off of the fact that I learned that apparently certain stones are associated with Archangels, and the midnight conversation with my best friend about how the two would react to this info.  Just a bit of fun as a writing exercise, and because writing my actual book takes too much brain.





	1. Chapter 1

_A Cottage in South Downs_

_2020_

Crowley woke, as he often did since the Armagediddn't, swathed in golden light and soft blankets. The light was not, however, from the sunshine peeking in through the curtains, signalling the day's beginning. No, instead it emanated from the angel seated beside him, who was reading a very dusty old tome.

Aziraphale did not sleep. He tried to, sometimes, and quite often he would lay beside Crowley, arms wrapped tightly around him until he drifted off, but he always returned to a seated position eventually. There he would sit for the rest of the night, whiling away the hours reading whatever book had caught his attention recently. It was a setup that left him quite content, and if he was honest, he would never have it any other way. It left him feeling so happy, in fact, that it often led to him glowing ever so softly, just as he was now, his Grace shining through. It was sight that let Crowley know just how much his angel loved him, every morning.

"Nngg, mornin', angel." Crowley mumbled, slowly returning to consciousness.

"Good morning, my dear. Sleep well?"

"'Course I did. Dreamt about you..." he trailed off, closing his eyes again and cuddling into Aziraphale's side. The angel leaned over, and placed a small, tender kiss to Crowley's head, before swinging around an hopping out of bed.

"I'm going to go make breakfast, dear."

"Mhm." Crowley reached his hands out towards Aziraphale, making shamelessly petulant gabby motions at him. Aziraphale smirked. If there was one thing that he knew would get Crowley out of bed in the mornings, it was getting out himself. Without fail, as he began to brew the coffee and put some toast in, Aziraphale could the rustling of sheets, and the rumblings of his groggy demon approaching.

"S'not fair, angel." he said, coming up behind Aziraphale and hugging his waist. "You're too warm. You get out and I've gotta chase you around the house to get it back." Crowley didn't quite care if what he was saying made any sense or not. The message was clear, if not by his words, then by the fact that he had carried half of the bedspread to the kitchen with him, all bundled up and cozy.

"Really, my dear boy, must you do that?" Aziraphale asked, carrying the mugs and plates of toast to the table. Crowley sat down. "You are being quite dramatic." 

"Thanks." he said, munching on the toast. He didn't have quite the same reverence for food that his angel did, but just as Aziraphale joined him during his naps, he would nibble away at toast while the angel ate a full english breakfast, freshly cooked (miracled) and ready.

"Of course, my dear. Now we really must be getting on soon. Lot's of things to do today!" Aziraphale gestured at Crowley, bringing attention to his bedsheet toga.

"Uh...like what, angel?" This was their routine. With neither of their head offices breathing down their backs, the two had little official duties to attend to to. Still, Aziraphale always had a list of things to do in the mornings. Usually it was groceries, or tending to the books, or the gardens outside the cottage, or some other kind of housekeeping. Crowley's job, then was not to help out, but to be very wily and 'tempt' him away from such duties. He was almost always successful, especially when convincing his angel to relax meant little more than miracling them both to his favourite restaurant for dinner that night.

"Oh, you know..." Aziraphale began, ready to recite the plans for the day. However, he was quite abruptly interrupted by a column of holy light, shining directly onto the middle of the breakfast table.

_Message for the Principality Aziraphale, _the all too familiar voice of Gabriel said, through the column. _Please reply ASAP. _

The column of light faded, leaving behind a small parchment scroll, tied together with a delicate purple ribbon, and sealed with gold wax.

"Nope, absolutely not." Crowley said, getting up and leaving, going back down the hall towards the bedroom. He didn't actually stop talking, though, just speaking louder so he could still be heard. "I am not letting that pompous asshole ruin our lives any more. For Somebody's sake, what does he not understand about us being on _our side_! He saw you survive Hellfire and he thinks that he can just summon you back up there at a moment's notice! No! You don't work for them anymore!"

Crowley returned to the kitchen, now dressed in his tightest, blackest, most demonic jeans he'd been able to find, along with all the usual acoutrements. Aziraphale had not moved from the table, the letter still in his hands. He was reading it closely.

"Oh!" Crowley immediately began to backpedal. "I mean, uh, I guess if you really did wanna go back, or do some blessings here and there, angel, we could could, uh-"

"My dear, we talked about this." Aziraphale said, looking up over the parchment at Crowley. His tone was sharp, but there was nothing but softness in his eyes. "I most certainly _do not _ wish to return to Heaven on anything resembling a permanent basis. However, I do find Gabriel's attempts at communication to be rather humourous."

"Oh?"

"Yes! Of course! Look here, darling, he had apparently requested that I _reconnect with the Host as soon as is __convenient, in order to receive instructions._

"Ha!" Crowley laughed, bordering on a cackle. "Reconnect? What is this? A broken telephone line!" 

"I'm not entirely sure, but I do not intend on responding, my dear. I have had quite enough of Gabriel, and I don't quite care who hears me say that anymore." With that, their argument was settled, leaving them more than free to go about their day. Crowley left Aziraphale to tend to his books, while he tended to (yelled at) the garden. They had dinner, and wine, and eventually, they curled back up into bed and Crowley dozed off for another night. Their life continued as normal, until the next day.

_____

Crowley had not expected to hear Aziraphale's scream coming from the bathroom the next day. Often the angel had no problem with little bugs or other creepy crawlies intruding on his bath times, so when the shriek ran through the house, startling high pitched, Crowley miracled himself into the bathroom. He wasn't entriely sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn't his angel, wrapped in a towel and very caught off guard by the column of heavenly glow invading their house. 

"What do you want?" Aziraphale shouted at it, very annoyed.

_Another message fore the Principality Aziraphale. Please reply ASAP._ . The ethereal voice of Gabriel faded, leaving another piece of parchment in his wake. Aziraphale stared at Crowley.

"This better not become a regular occurrence." he said. 

Unfortunately, Gabriel _did_ intend on making it a regular occurrence, as the next five day saw daily memos left to Aziraphale at various times of the day. Sometimes in the morning, at breakfast, other times at night, while they were drinking wine and laughing.

"Okay, I'm really getting tired of this, angel." Crowley said, on the sixth day, when a memo had been left directly in his wine glass. "Why do they want you back so badly?"

"You know I don't entirely know, nor do I care." Aziraphale took a long sip of wine. "But I have been looking at ways to stop these intrusions. Perhaps if I had a way to contact him back, I could kindly ask him to leave me alone. I do not, however, want to return to tell him myself, although it would be quite lovely to see his face when I tell him to kindly bugger off."

"Well lucky for you, angel, I've been doing some research of my own. You 'll hate it of course, but it's a great idea, really." Crowley said, wriggling his eyebrows. 

"My dear, those words terrify me more than anything else. Do go on." he said, giggling a bit.

"Well, you know Book Girl?"

"Miss Device, yes. Lovely young girl, we've had her 'round for tea a couple times."

"Great, yeah. Book Girl. So, she's a witch, er _occultist_ and stuff, and I decided to talk to her and see if there was anything we could do spell wise. Miracles aren't gonna work obviously so I thought that some kind of human thingy may be able to block us from our end. Anyways, she was telling me about how she connects with spirits sometimes."

"Are you suggesting that we use some kind of absurd human technology to connect with the Heavenly Host of Archangels?" Aziraphale asked, with all the appropriate indignance of someone who was _this_ close to being on board.

"Nah, well, not exactly. See the humans sometimes get, like, rocks and crystals and assign them to different things, right? Well, Book Girl was saying that some people use them to connect with the archassholes upstairs."

"Yes, I do believe that certain _metaphysical connections_ can be drawn between material crystalline structures, if the human using it knows what they are doing. But I do wonder my dear, why exactly you chose this method of comm-_oh!_"

"Exactly!"

"Oh, Crowley! That would get us into so much trouble!" Aziraphale's face contorted with worry. "We can't _throw rocks at the Archangels!"_

"Woah there, angel! Throw 'em?" Crowley doubled over with laughter. "I was gonna say that we crank call the buggers with the rocks, not _toss 'em!_ You're idea's much better, though!"

"Oh, no! Crowley, I couldn't!" Aziraphale wrung his hands together for a brief moment, before looking back at the parchment that sat in Crowley's wine, now slowly turning red. "But they are being ever so irritating. And I would rather like to remind them that we are definitely on _our own side_. Oh, but I certainly don't think that the Almighty would approve of me doing it, regardless of my current employment status. Then again, I have already worn a demon's body to trick Hell, and I did possess a human, and I have yet to receive much recourse for that." Crowley leaned back in his chair, waiting for Aziraphale to talk himself into their shenanigans. It would be harmless, of course, he would make sure of it. But it would so funny.

"It'll be a snatch, angel. Shout some nasty messages at the rocks, and we toss a few at Heaven's window, and we see what happens! Worst case we catch Sandalphon in the bak of that head of his, and we've got to look at that nasty grill of his."

"Oh, I certainly wouldn't call that a worst case scenario." Aziraphale said, quite involuntarily. That comment though, and they both knew that the angel had made up his mind. It was childish, and quite immature for two 6000 year old beings to consider the idea, but it was also going to be terribly entertaining for both of them.

"Well?" Crowley asked.

"I need to do some more research." Aziraphale said, heading towards the bookshelves.

_____

It didn't take long at all for the two to compile all of the necessary instruments for their little prank. A quick call to Anathema was all it took to acquire the correct crystals, and after her own fit of laughter she was more than happy to help. It wasn't all that hard, either, to find various sources explaining which crystals went with which angel. In the early afternoon of the next day, Aziraphale had a tray full of stones, tumbled and raw, each labelled according to the hierarchy. Crowley was, without a doubt, very impressed.

"Bastard." he teased, nuzzling his angel's neck as he labbeled a few more stones.

"I would harldy call this bastardly. And anyways, while you were with Anathema fetching the stones, Gabriel sent me _another_ note. He's starting to sound quite desperate."

"Good." Crowley said, picking up a small piece of moonstone from the tray. Its cubby had a little label on it. _Gabriel_. "Oh, this is going to be so good, angel."

"Yes, my dear boy, I do believe it will be."

_____

In previous millennia, Aziraphale and Crowley had taken the main entrances when visiting their respective Head Offices. Now, though, they took a side door, out into a courtyard, where they could see the first few levels of Purgatory, and Heaven many levels above. Of course they had no doubt that they could those topmost windows of the building. Nothing a minor miracle couldn't accomplish. And anyways, it was far more comfortable sitting down here than it was to actually fly up there.

Aziraphale, seated on the bench to Crowley's right, took the tray out its leather satchel, and placed it on the seat between them. Crowley, leaning back and placing his arms behind the bench, looked ever casual as the angel surveyed the stones.

“Who shall we start with, then, dear? I’d say not Gabriel, as I think I’d like him to be last, or at least later on. Michael, perhaps?” Aziraphale picked up a rather large piece of amber, with a small mosquito embedded deep within it. Crowley nodded, and gestured vaguely upwards.

“Go for it.” Aziraphale clutched the stone, and focused on centering his energy, or whatever it was that Anathema had instructed him to do. He continued to focus and centre until the crystal began to glow, softly in his hand.

“Ah! There we are! Now then, yes, ah, Michael, “Who is Like God”, well I must say you took some rather unflattering photos of myself and my husband when trying to indict us both, and I do wish that you would mind your own business from now on.” Aziraphale nodded, content, and smirked upwards, as he gave the crystal a hefty toss towards the building. It soared up, miraculously arcing far higher than physics ought to have allowed it, and passing seamlessly through one of the windows, without so much as a crack.

Aziraphale looked back at Crowley, beaming.

“Unflattering photos?” Crowley asked.

“Oh yes they were of us! Together! Terrible angles really, it’s like they didn’t even try. Anyhow that was supremely satisfying, do have a go, dearest!” Crowley did not need to be told twice.

“Okay, yeah.” He picked up a flat, pointed piece of turquoise, and held it for a moment. It took him a bit longer to centre himself the way Aziraphale had, but once he did, he could feel the connection open. “Ah, there you are Sandy. Uh, ‘Brother’. HA! You really got the short end of the stick on names, eh? Anyways you make me and my husband here really uncomfortable with all that grinning and gold teeth, and to be honest the whole Sodom and Gomorrah thing has made it really difficult for some people, ya know? Chill out for a bit, eh? Yeah? Cool!” And with that, Crowley chucked his stone. “Oh, yeah, that’s definitely good.” He said, watching the crystal fly up to the window.

The two of them had yet to hear any cracks in the panes of heavenly glass, so for the moment they were worry free, as they kept picking out stones and throwing them up. Aziraphale reached into the tray, and pulled out a small, round stone, lined with oranges and browns.

“Tiger’s Eye.” he said.

“Who’s that one for?” Crowley asked, plucking it from Aziraphale’s palm and giving it a light throw into the air, before catching it again. 

“I have it for Uriel.” said the angel, taking the stone back and activating it. He took a deep breath this time, readying himself to speak. “Hello Uriel. ‘The Fire of God’. Hm. Yes. Well, I simply wanted to say that I really do not appreciate the way you treated me in Heaven, specifically I did not enjoy you coming down to earth, and  _ punching me in front of my own bookshop!” _

“They  _ what? _ ” Crowley interrupted. He placed his hand on the crystal and began to speak as well. “Oi! What do you think you’re doing hitting  _ my angel! _ I hope this rock hits you in the eye, you bastard!” With that, Crowley took the stone and chucked it, quite violently, upwards. 

“My dear boy, I was quite looking forward to doing that myself.” Aziraphale said, only slightly put out. 

“Sorry angel.” Crowley sta back down, pushing his hair out from in front of his face. “You didn’t tell me that any of them had hit you.”

“Yes, well I quite expected you to be angry with them, and at the time it would have been rather inconvenient for you to start a war with Heaven on your own.”

“Fine. But I really do hope Uriel catches that one somewhere soft.” Crowley said.

“Oh, I do too.” Aziraphale chuckled. He moved another piece of hair out of Crowley’s eyes. He’d grown it longer again, since The-Little-Armageddon-That-Couldn't, letting it fall almost to his shoulders, in soft auburn curls. Aziraphale quite liked it like this. It was more relaxed, and much softer than his old spiked up style.

“Can we  _ please _ do Gabe now?” Crowley requested, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and a smirk crawling up his face.

“Don’t you want to hold off, dearest? There are three or four other archangels that I’d like to address you know.”

“Yeah but I’ve never met them. S’not as fun when I can’t imagine their faces.” 

“Oh, very well, dear, but only since you asked so nicely.” Aziraphale turned to pick another crystal from the tray. As he did, he missed most of the change in Crowley’s face. His smirk, ever so suave and cool, fell. Just for a moment, it twisted into a grimace of guilt and regret, though even if Aziraphale had seen it, the chasm beneath it would have been incomprehensible to him.

No, instead, Aziraphale saw nothing but the smirk, recovered just as quickly as it had fallen, just in time for him to hand Crowley a shard of opalescent moonstone. 

“Together, my dear?” he asked, a bright smile shining in his eyes. Crowley nodded, lost for a moment in the tide of blue. 

“Ngk.” The two of them placed their hands on the moonstone, centering themselves and channeling into the crystal.

“Gabriel.” Aziraphale began.

“God has shown Herself Mightily.” Crowley continued. “Pfft. My ass. Now hey, Gabe, why are pestering my husband here? He said you’ve been sending him quite a lot of messages lately. You jealous?” He winked at his angel.

“It is quite a lot, Gabriel, and I have made myself very clear with my regards for working with you. As such, I hope that you consider this  _ connection _ enough for at least a millenia or so. Now, do stop contacting me, as you seem to be prone to interrupting my very pleasant meals with my husband. Thank you.” 

Crowley relinquished the stone, allowing Aziraphale to have the definitive throw. There was, just as he released it, a glint of what might have almost been wrath in Aziraphle’s eyes. At the very least, it was more than mild annoyance towards his former boss. Crowley sat back on the bench, rather satisfied at the moment. He had gotten what he’d wanted out of this little game of theirs, and he was now more than content to watch Aziraphale fret over which stone to try next. The wind here, just at the base of Heaven’s building, was the perfect amount of breeziness, and the sun shone  _ just so _ onto his angel’s soft curls. Crowley watched with rapt attention as Aziraphale pulled out what was, in his own demonic opinion, a rather nice green stone, with swirling designs and a complex pattern.

Aziraphale began to whisper the opening lines of the connection, and Crowley missed the name and title of the angel. He did hear the message though.

"Hello, there. It's Aziraphale. It's been quite some time. I'm sure that you've noticed the little prank calls going around. I must say that I am not at all sorry for them. I suppose you must also know about the whole Armageddon thing. I am also not sorry for that. And, while I do remember you being quite kind, I do have a message for you as well. Well, I am simply quite curious as to where you went? You've been holed up in there for millennia, and If I am entirely honest with you I think that the world very much needed you, and I'm quite cross that you abandoned them. Anyhow, it does look like that the other Archangels may be needing your assistance quite soon, if my messages hit their marks." A cheshire grin exploded on the angel's face. "Hopefully this brings you out then, you old hermit."

Crowley watched as the piece of crystal flew up into the air, carried by the wind and a small miracle.

“Who’s that one for?” he asked, nonchalant and casual. Aziraphale hesitated to respond.

“...Raphael. ‘God Heals.’ It’s, ah, well it’s been quite some time since anyone heard from him, and I always thought it was rather terrible of him to hide up there when there was quite a need for healing down here.” he started to ramble, his words taking over his mind. “It was, well it was one of the questions I had, but I was far too scared to ask it. But now that we’re on our own side I do believe that I can ask as many questions as I want.”

“Angel.” Crowley whispered, all the colour drained from his face. Aziraphale looked at him, now very concerned. He removed Crowley's sunglasses to see his eyes, now wide with fear., as he looked up at the stone, and back down at Aziraphale.

“My dear boy, whatever is this about?” he asked. Crowley didn’t have time to answer, before the chunk of malachite dropped from the air, and knocked into his head with a  _ thwack _ .

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> feelings time!!

"Angel, relax! I'm _fine!_" Crowley insisted, rubbing his head where the crystal had landed, before falling to the ground. He could hear Aziraphale's message playing from it, the words lopping around and around, apparently on repeat until Crowley chose to do anything about it.

"My dear you are most certainly _not_ fine!" 

"It's just a piece of stone, relax! Please!" Aziraphale ignored him, obsessively checking over his hairline and forehead. There was a small scrape there, just enough to break the skin, but nothing major. A small wave of his hand and the injury was miracled away.

"Oh I am so sorry my dear, I must have done the miracle wrong! Oh, I guess I thought that I-"

"No, angel." Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's wrists, and brought them in front of him. He sighed, regret pouring off of him in waves. He didn't want it to be like this. This was not the way his angel was supposed to find out. But he really didn't have any other choice now, did he? "You did it right. You did everything right, it's just that..."

"No, Crowley, I'm quite sure that I didn't." Aziraphale interrupted. It threw Crowley off guard, and he spluttered a bit looking at his angel's eyes. They were downcast, refusing to look at Crowley. "I was trying to think about Raphael, to centre myself and communicate with him, but it's been quite awhile since anyone has seen him." Crowley winced as Aziraphale said that, but the moment of pain went unnoticed. "And I daresay say that you looked quite dashing all lounged about like that. Not to say that it is your fault, of course, but I did get quite distracted by you, my dear."

Crowley paused for a brief moment, unsure of what to say, or do. The message continued to play on repeat on the ground by his shoes, Aziraphale's contempt and dismay coming through the words. They hurt him, a lot. But should he tell his angel that? More importantly, should he tell his angel why? He knew exactly what this was. This was a choice. He could easily let Aziraphale think that he had messed up the spell, that being distracted was enough to send the stone in the wrong direction. They could pick up a new one, and move on like nothing had happened, and neither of them would have to face a very deeply hidden truth. Or, Crowley could buck up and tell his angel why a rock addressed to an archangel had hit him in the back of the head. 

Oh, how badly Crowley wanted to lie. It was his base nature as a demon, of course, to let the lie slither out over his silver tongue and plant itself in Aziraphale's mind. But he also knew how much it would hurt, when the truth did then finally come out. And it would, one day, when Crowley was really ready. But if this lie was in the way, the seed grown into a hedge? That would hurt to rip out. Even just imagining it, the pain that Aziraphale would feel at being lied to, at not being _trusted_ by his demon, it was more than Crowley could bear. He couldn't imagining hurting his angel. Base nature, and all that.

"No, it wouldn't have mattered, Aziraphale." he said, bracing himself for impact this time. When this dropped, it might cause a bit more bruising. "I think you know why, and I really would like it if you didn't make me say it out loud, but I guess if this is how it's gotta be...Well it's time I come clean, angel, and--"

"AZIRAPHALE! CROWLEY!" a familiar voice shouted down from the upper levels of the building, no column of holy light needed. The two looked up, startled to see an extremely pissed off Gabriel, purple tie flapping in the wind as he hung out of one of Heaven's topmost windows.

"I really do hate to interrupt you my dear, but I quite think it's time we departed!" Aziraphale started to pack up the rocks, as a couple storm clouds started to roll in.

"Get a wiggle on then, angel!" Crowley teased, grabbing his sleeve to miracle them out of there. The look he got from his angel could have curdled dairy. "Alright then, no wiggling! We can save that for later." He added a wink for good measure, as he snapped them both home.

_____

Once they returned to the cottage, Crowley ran the perimeter of the grounds. The two of them were mostly certain that Heaven and Hell weren't going to come after them, but they weren't _entriely_ idiotic at times. So, Crowley made sure to check all of the spells and wards that kept any unwanted guests at bay. After that fiasco, funny as it was to see Gabriel alight with holy fury, they weren't exactly in the mood for a smiting, and would definitely have to watch their backs a little bit for the next couple weeks. Not that it mattered. A couple of weeks would be a blink of an eye for both of them, and Gabriel would get over it.

When Crowley went back inside, now satisfied that neither occult nor ethereal being could burst into the cottage, Aziraphale was seated on the couch by the fireplace. He had already lit it, letting the flames eat up the wood inside. He was curled up around his hot chocolate, which steamed from within his white angel wing mug. Beside him, on the end table, was a darker maroon mug, full of equally scalding cocoa. The angel patted the seat beside him, motioning for Crowley to join him in the plush warmth.

As he settled in, wrapping into the space Aziraphale had made for him, he was handed his own mug, and received a light kiss to the top of his forehead, just where the scrape from the crystal had been.

"I added some creme de menthe for you, dear."

"Mmmmm. You are a blessing, angel." Crowley said, taking a long sip.

"I am, yes. That's sort of the job description." The two of them laughed, before Crowley felt Aziraphale grow serious. The laughs melted away, and concern began to flow from his angel. Crowley's heart sank through his corporation, through the earth, and back into Hell. He wasn't out of the fire yet, and he knew it. "Now, as for jobs, ah. Well, love, what exactly were you going to tell me earlier?"

"Oh, right. Er...yes." Crowley stuttered, briefly wondering if this was his chance to back out. To change his mind an commit to the lie. But then he saw the love in Aziraphale's eyes, bright and soft _very worried_. "Well, okay. So it's kind of a long story."

"We have all the time in the world, Crowley."

"I know. I guess the best place to start is to ask you. Do remember much from _before_ the war?" he asked.

"Vaguely, yes? It was quite a long time ago so I doubt I'd remember many names, Crowley, but yes, I do remember it. I suppose."

"Yeah. Exactly. Long,_ long_ time ago. Well, obviously we were all angels back then, but I guess I never really told you who I was back then. Or more importantly, _what_ I was. I didn't tell you, well mostly because it never came up, but I'm not too keen on thinking about it, if I'm honest. But it's coming up now, and if we're going to spend all of eternity together, then I suppose I owe it to you. You deserve to know."

"I think, my dear, that I might already have some idea." Aziraphale kissed his head, twirling his fingers through strands of ginger curls.

"Well, yeah. I think you do too. I hope you do, anyways, otherwise you really weren't paying attention. But you should hear it from me. Properly. And quite frankly I think that I deserve to be the one to say it out loud." Crowley lifted his head to meet Aziraphale's eyes. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in his angel's lap and whisper it out, avoiding the majority of the confrontation. But he couldn't. Even not knowing what Aziraphale would say, he had to anchor himself to this world somehow, as he bared what remained of his soul. "I was an Archangel, back then. I'm...I _was_, Raphael."

For a moment, silence hung between them. Aziraphale looked at his demon, his _husband_, and tried to picture it. Tried to imagine what little he remembered of Raphael. It had been a very long time ago, and the two of them hadn't mingled much, but he'd known of Raphael. They all had. How could you not have heard of the fire-haired Archangel who had hung the stars? The great healer, one of God's darlings? He could see it, now. His lovely demon's face on a body with six gloriously white wings, holding that great sceptre (a winged snake, oh, how it all fell into place), and flecks of gold dotting his face, freckles like stars in the sky. They would not have been too unlike the golden eyes that now stared at him, begging him to say something. _anything._

"Oh, Crowley...I'm so sorr-"

"Don't be, angel." Crowley interrupted. "For starters, it is no way your fault that I Fell. Like you said, we didn't exactly talk much, back then. I saw you, sure. I thought you were kinda cute, but I had duties. We all did. Btu secondly, and far more importantly, I do not regret my choice." There was a slight shock in Aziraphale's face when Crowley admitted this. "I wasn't cast out the same way the others were. Some of them begged for forgiveness for days, years, _centuried_ for some of the most repentant. A lot of us regretted Falling. I didn't. I never got on my knees and begged to go back, not for a single second. Even when I remember the burn. And not just of the sulphur and fire, but of their _eyes_, angel. The way that Gabriel and the others looked at me, when they found out what I'd done. Even when I remember my own brothers and sisters ripping my feathers from my wings and leaving me behind, I _do not regret it for a second."_ . There a fury in his eyes, distant and cold and far deeper than any pit in Hell.

"My dearest, what did they do to you?" Azirapahle asked. Even having left active service as an angel, he couldn't possibly fathom actually _wanting _to Fall. Sure, he'd come to terms with the possibility at this point. He was sure that one day, the last straw would pile on, and he would feel his own wings burn with Hellfire, and he was equally sure that it was worth it to spend eternity with Crowley. Coming to terms with Falling, though, was far different from actively climbing up the tallest tower and jumping.

"I was in charge of healing, angel. It was in the job description. But like you said, there was a great deal of suffering planned by the Almighty, most of it I was expected to ignore. Then the war came. The first defectors Fell, and I was almost okay. I was almost able to push it all down and remind myself that it was all planned. The real kicker came, though, when the real fighting started. I'd met with Lucifer, in the early days. Charismatic guy, if a bit extreme, but he was asking good questions. Questions nobody else would. I never saw the harm in asking a few myself, you know. How much harm could a few questions do? So when I was expected, when I was _ordered_ to kill people that I'd known, that I had liked, even, I couldn't do it. It went against everything I stood for. Everything I thought I was meant to do. So I talked to Gabe. He said not to worry about it, not to question it. Then I went to Michale, and she was even worse. I talked to all the other Archangels, and fat lot of good it did. So I did what no one esle had even thought of. I marched right Upstairs and I asked Her why. Why was She asking me to go against my nature to follow Her? Why did I have to go against my one mission? I got nothing."

"So that's why when I-" They both remembered. The day of Armageddon, and Aziraphale's most outlandish plan to date:

_I will simply ask the Almighty, and then the Almighty will fix it!_

"Yeah. I knew asking Her wasn't gonna do anything. That's why it broke my heart, angel, to see you so dead set on asking Her, because She ignored my when her own children Fell all around us, so why would She ever talk to you now? But anyways, I was angry out of my mind. More angry than I'd ever been. Looking back I think it was my first true brush with Wrath. I had to wash the blood of my brethren off of my hands and say it was from the enemy. So I went to them, the first of the Fallen. I told them everything. What I thought, what I knew, all of it. I spilled it all and they welcomed me. So I met with Lucifer again. I asked him another question. 'What are we gonna get out of this? If we keep fighting, what do we win?' At the time he'd said 'Everything'. I didn't believe him, of course, not really. Then, the next day, I saw Gabriel slice into someone's throat with a holy blade, the malice in his eyes no less demonic than the Fallen. I knew I had to choose. One lie or the other. I chose to Fall. I chose it, even when I was dragged to face the other Archangels, and ordered to make my choice again, publicly. I chose it even when feathers were ripped from my wings and burned away, and scale crawled up my skin. I chose it a thousand times over, then, I would choose it again every time. Beelzebub said I was the only one who hadn't cried over what I lost. I guess I had already lost it all, in Heaven, so there weren't a whole lot of tears left."

"Crowley, my dearest..." Aziraphale whispered, wrapping his arms around Crowley in a tight embrace, bth of their mugs long forgotten. "I know you don't want my pity, but I am so, so sorry. Not that you Fell, but that they pushed you to it. All for asking questions and trying to the right thing. I remember the fighting, and it was simply horrid. Just as horrid as what they did to you. I'd always heard about you back then. We all knew about you, up there among the stars."

"It's the one thing I miss, if I'm honest. Making them. Other angels don't need much healing when there's no war on, so for a while, in the Beginning, it was all I had. My only purpose."

"And you fulfilled it wonderfully. You still do." Crowley felt his heart clench as the words hit him like a truck. He wasn't good, not like he had been, long ago, and he knew that if anything, it was his real goodness that had brought him to Fall. He had never been a very good angel, but much like Aziraphale, he had been a Good angel. Maybe that was what had made him such a bad demon.

"I don't regret leaving. Either time." he said. Aziraphale did not need him to clarify. Hell was just as much of a lie as Heaven had been, and they both knew it. Now, though, neither of them had to lie, or be lied to. They could just be here, now, forever. Just the two of them until the very end of time.

"I do not regret you leaving either. In fact I'm rather glad you did. I don't believe we ever would have met if you'd stayed in Heaven, my dear."

"Ha! We would've seen lots of each other, angel. I would have been your _boss_!" Crowley laughed.

"Oh dear, that would have been absolutely awful! Imagine you in a pale, tight suit like Gabriel's, wearing Michael's little shoe pants, or whatever they are! Or with Sandalphon's grill!"

"He was my replacement, you know! Maybe I _would_ have had to wear the grill!"

"Absolutely horrid!" Crowley howled with laughter, imagining himself all slimy and weird like Sandalphon. "In all seriousness though, my dear," Aziraphale continued, "I truly am grateful that you told me. And while I think you would have made a radiant Archangel for all eternity, and both Heaven and the world quite missed out, I am very proud to know that you have always been this brave. My ever so brave demon, you are just as radiant everyday now than you ever could have been, and I love you ever so much.”

“I love you too, angel. And I’m glad I left, too. Pretty hard to tempt an angel if you’re not a demon, eh?”

“Of course, you wily old serpent.” Aziraphale said, the lines around his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

“Oh, but one thing, ‘Zira?”

“Yes dear?”

“Please don’t throw anymore rocks at me.” Crowley said, winking.

“I would never!” Aziraphale retorted, mock offence in his voice as the two laughed. Then, just as they did many nights like this, occult and ethereal beings both cuddled before the fireplace, just enjoying each other’s softness and company. And, as Aziraphale picked up his book to begin reading, Crowley drifted off into sleep, feeling his angel’s Heavenly love pour into him. It had been awhile since he’d felt anything like it, but he soaked it up, knowing that this time, it truly was unconditional.


	3. Chapter 3

Crowley woke, as he always did, next to his angel, the glow of Heavenly light illuminating the room they shared. As much as Crowley internally begged for sleep to take him back under, just for five more minutes, or hours, or even days, he knew that his angel would get quite grumpy if he wasn’t up very soon. This was evident based on the stare he was currently being given by said angel, who now looked quite amused at the demon beside him.

“Ah, finally up I see.” he said, running fingers through Crowley’s hair. “Have a good night's sleep?”

“Ngk, yep. So good I might go back to it.” Crowley said, turning back over to bury his face in the pillow.

“Absolutely not, my dear boy. It is more than time to get up, and besides, I have a present for you.” At this, Crowley perked up a bit, not fully sitting up, but turning over to show his angel that he was listening. That he could be tempted. 

Gifts were not uncommon in the cottage. Little trinkets of affection were exchanged on the regular, from old tomes found in little bookshops that Crowley gave Aziraphale, to bottles of fine liquor given in return. Even other ‘gifts’ were often exchanged in the more heated moments, though this did not seem to be the morning for  _ that _ type of present. 

“Mmm?” Crowley hummed, prompting Aziraphale to go on and present his little gift. 

“Well I’ve been thinking, since your little, ah,  _ confession _ recently, that I ought to get you something in return. I know it sounds odd, but I think you gave me something rather important that day. You gave me your complete and utter trust, to know that part of you. And I know that you said that you do not regret your choice, but I wondered if this might help you reclaim a bit of what you had in Heaven. Under a new light of course. Our light, if you will.” 

“Angel what on Earth did you get me?” Crowley asked, now fully sitting up. Aziraphale pulled a small box out of thin air, black and sleek and embossed in gold. It had the initials A.J.C. in curling gold script on it. Crowley took it, hesitating a bit as he opened the lid.

“I will fully understand if you do not like it, and If you want I can most certainly not speak of it again but-”

“Angel, please, I’ve barely seen it yet!” Crowley teased. He opened the box, not breaking eye contact with Aziraphale until the lid was off. Inside, sitting on a plush little pillow of black velvet, was a pendant.

It wasn’t large, nor was it audacious by any means, but the craftsmanship behind it was exquisite. A small crystal, mottled and swirling greens sharpened into a point, encircled by a small golden snake, with details so fine that each scale on it could be counted. It was strung on a thin, black leather cord, with two little wing shaped clasps at the back.

“Angel...this is-”

“Malachite, yes.” Aziraphale whispered. “As I said I hoped that you might like the idea of us, ah, reclaiming the stone from the lineup.” As he said this, he placed his hand on Crowley’s, and he saw the angel’s right catch the sunlight. Embedded into the gold, where there had once been a coat of arms, there was now a small piece of matching crystal, framed by the wings. 

“I love it, angel. Thank you.” Crowley said, kissing the hand that held his own. “Put it on me, would you?” he asked, handing the necklace to Aziraphale and turning around. Once it was on, Crowley looked down at it, fiddling with a bit and admiring it. Then, he heard his angel whisper into his ear:

“Raphael.” The stone on Aziraphale’s pinky ring glowed, ever so softly, and in response, the pendant shone, emanating an equally soft halo of light, calling to some part very deep inside Crowley that had never quite managed to burn in the Fall. But now, knowing that on the other end of that connection was the only angel that mattered to him, it didn’t ache, nor did he think immediately of the cold and sterile place he had left. No, now that glow reminded him of fireplaces, and warm blankets and mugs, and of a soft glow in the morning, radiating from Aziraphale.

The angel pressed a kiss to Crowley’s neck, and stayed there for a moment, nuzzling into him and leaving his arms wrapped tightly around him. 

“We can use it to communicate, if you want, or if you’re away at all, and you just want to know that I’m there. You can do the reverse too, of course, if you want.”

“Of course I want to, ‘Zira. I’ll always be there. Until the end of time.”

“I know that, dear. I just want you to know it too.”

“I do, angel. I do.”

And with that, as the sun rose a bit higher in the sky, the day passed on, as many of the days to come would. There had been rather more 2.1 million of them so far, and each of the upcoming ones were to be filled with life and joy, and for two preternatural beings in particular, a rather greater attention to detail regarding stones.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Just want to say that I know this isn't accurate to any belief system, it's honestly just based on a post I saw and the conversation that followed it. Basically my friend and I thought it would be funny if the two chucked rocks at Gabriel in a bit of lighthearted revenge, and what would happen if one aimed at a certain missing Archangel backfired. Hopefully the ensuing story is as funny to everyone as it was to us at midnight!


End file.
